


OPERATION: OASIS

by obbel



Category: Latin American Celebrities RPF, Reggaeton RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Puerto Rico
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 18:29:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19874110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obbel/pseuds/obbel
Summary: “We’re sending you to Puerto Rico,” Shakira says, sliding over a folder marked Top Secret.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's some violence and sexy scenes in this story. I didn't think they were enough to warrant tagging, but I marked individual chapters beforehand

“We’re sending you to Puerto Rico,” Shakira says, sliding over a folder marked Top Secret.

Balvin opens the first page and reads “OPERATION: OASIS”. The objective is twofold: intercept an illicit arms shipment and return a missing agent. Their primary focus is José Gazmey’s operation outside of San Juan. According to his file, he’s an arms dealer who’s been branching out into trafficking narcotics and—

“Hormones?” Balvin asks. “Like, testosterone?”

“Yes,” Shakira says. “It’s a lucrative industry.” She doesn’t explain further.

Balvin keeps reading. It’s a joint operation, and he’ll be liaising with his Puerto Rican counterparts. They’ve already got a lead on Gazmey’s son. Balvin recognizes the photo before he reads the name.

Emmanuel Gazmey Santiago alias Anuel alias  _ El Diablito _ alias  _ El Demonio. _

Balvin frowns. Those bangs are certainly hellish.

“Didn’t he just get out of jail?” 

“Mmhmm,” Shakira says. “We think he’s trying to move up in his father’s organization. Something to do with her.” She motions for Balvin to turn the page.

There’s another familiar face. An extremely familiar face. His former junior partner’s face. His former— whatever they were’s face.

Carolina Giraldo Navarro alias Karol G alias  _ La Bebecita. _

“Woah,” Balvin says. 

“That’s why we’re getting involved. Headquarters wants her back home.”

Balvin nods, and Shakira leaves him to finish reading the brief. Karol’s file doesn’t have much that he didn’t know already. After betraying them in Argentina, she’s been spotted all over Latin America and the United States, but she’s been spending most of her time in the Caribbean. Probably because of the crime family she’s marrying into. The brief indicates she and Anuel have gotten engaged.

Balvin blinks twice and keeps reading. There’s a list of Gazmey’s other associates and the various crimes they’ve committed. Balvin skims briefly. He’ll read more thoroughly after lunch. Can’t get anything done on an empty stomach.

He pulls out his work phone.

_ Hey did u eat yet _

The reply comes immediately.

_ No not yet vámonos but you have to help me down the stairs pq i cant walk _

_ Take the elevator idiota _

_ But u promised me in sickness and in health so come help me _

Balvin shakes his head.

_ Youre making it sound like we got married _

_ We didnt? _

Balvin doesn’t reply to that. Instead, he walks out of the conference room and heads back towards the cubicles. 

“Making it official is not the same thing as getting married,” he says, and Maluma stops typing and grins at him.

“Whatever,” he says. “Help me.”

“You don’t need my help.”

“No,” Maluma says, locking his computer and standing up just fine on his own. “But if you help me down the stairs, you get to touch me at work.”

Balvin hadn’t considered that angle. “Oh,” is all he says, and he hurries after Maluma, who is surprisingly quick with his crutches. They make it down the stairs in record slow time, Balvin assisting every step, making sure that Maluma doesn’t slip and fall and hinder the progress he’s made towards recovery.

The cafeteria is crowded. Balvin carries both his and Maluma’s trays and glares at anyone who gets too close. They pay for lunch and sit down at the end of a long table. Their usual booth is occupied.

“Yatra,” Maluma mutters under his breath, eyeing Sebastián maliciously. Sebastián gives them a cheerful wave.

“Hey!” He says, smiling apologetically. “Sorry we took your booth! We’re just leaving! We’ll clean it up for you! Hope your knee gets better!”

Sebastián slides out of the booth, followed by either Manuel or Julián, one of the twinterns. Balvin can’t tell them apart. The other one is already stacking his tray neatly above the trash can.

“Have a great day! See you later!” Sebastián says he passes by.

“You too,  _ amiguito,” _ Maluma says, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. Sebastián is unphased. He gives them another blindingly white smile and goes about his business.

“Why don’t you like him?” Balvin asks once they’ve settled in.

“He’s too friendly, and he’s too pretty,” Maluma says, stabbing angrily at his rice. Balvin knocks his fork against Maluma’s.

“You’re so weird.”

“And,” Maluma continues, “He got his friends jobs here. That’s nepotism.”

“They’re interns,” Balvin says. “I don’t think they even get paid.”

“How do you get an internship at an intelligence agency?” 

Balvin ponders that for a minute. He comes up blank.

“See?” Maluma says. “Nepotism.”

Balvin closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them, he changes the subject. “I’m going to Puerto Rico.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. Going after some arms dealer. His idiot son is involved with one of ours.”

“Really?”

“You remember Karol?”

Maluma’s eyebrows shoot up. “I thought she died?”

“No,” Balvin says, clearing his throat. “After Argentina she turned traitor. Now she’s caught up in some strange circumstances. Guns and hormones and all kinds of shit. Shak says headquarters wants her brought in.”

They both wince.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's sexy descriptions in this chapter, but nothing too explicit

Balvin gets home after work and half-heartedly starts to pack his bag. There isn’t much to add, just his toothbrush, phone charger, things like that. He’s gone so often that he’s used to living out of a suitcase. He eyes his new sneakers. He’s not going to get to wear them, and they’re an impractical thing to waste space on, but. Still. They’re so cool.

He’s debating the pros and cons when his regular phone buzzes.

_U up?_

It’s seven in the evening.

_Really_

_Oh wait my bad... Ontas??????_

Balvin rolls his eyes, but he’s already halfway out the door. He takes the suitcase with him. He’ll just leave from Maluma’s apartment in the morning. It’s closer to work anyway.

Maluma greets him nearly naked. He has on a pair of briefs and an open robe that Balvin knows is 100% silk because he checked the tags in utter disbelief the first time he saw Maluma wear it.

“Hello,” Maluma says, leaning against the doorway. The crutches distract a little bit from the whole aesthetic. But not that much.

Balvin doesn’t even bother to return the greeting. He drops his suitcase and pushes Maluma up against the door. The crutches fall down with a loud clang.

“It’s like that, huh?”

“Shut up,” Balvin says, and kisses him. They make out against the wall until they’re both breathless. Balvin can feel Maluma, hard against his thigh, whining and shifting his hips forward. Balvin licks the skin of his neck, running his tongue over Maluma’s jugular. He sucks, not so gently.

“Bedroom,” Maluma says, pushing at him so he can pick up his crutches. Balvin doesn’t let him. Instead he scoops up Maluma and carries him, bridal style, through the apartment and deposits him gently on the bed. Maluma complains the whole way, saying that he’s not a damsel in distress, that he can walk just fine, but Balvin ignores him. He’s pretty proud of himself for making it the whole way. Maluma is heavy.

“You should let me fuck you,” Maluma tells him, looking up at where Balvin is standing in front of him.

“How are you gonna do that with your fucked up knee?”

“You know, I was thinking about that,” Maluma says, undoing Balvin’s belt buckle and pushing his pants down. He shoves Balvin’s shirt out of the way, leans in to bite at his abdomen. Maluma lets his tongue trace along the sharp, v-shaped lines where Balvin’s hip connects to his thigh. Balvin shivers. “I’ll just put my leg on a chair,” he continues. “And then you can come sit on daddy’s lap.”

“You can’t call yourself daddy,” Balvin says, pulling off his shirt. “That’s for me to decide. _Papi o inpapi.”_

“Go get a chair,” Maluma says.

Balvin laughs and does as he’s told. Maluma’s idea doesn’t really work, though. The chair is too tall, and Maluma says it puts pressure on his leg in a weird way that hurts. Fortunately, Balvin’s always been good at improvising. He puts Maluma on his back, higher up on the bed, and goes down on him instead.

“You can fuck me when I get back, okay? I don’t want to have to explain to the doctor what happened.”

Maluma accepts the consolation blowjob without much complaint. And then he returns the favor. 

Afterwards, Maluma heats up some leftover food, and they lounge around in the living room, eating and not really paying attention to the movie Balvin put on. Maluma sits sideways on the couch, legs stretched out and feet resting in Balvin’s lap.

“You ready for tomorrow?” He asks.

Balvin nods.

“You pack your new shoes that you don’t have space for?”

Balvin glances at Maluma and doesn't answer. Maluma exhales through his nose, loudly, and Balvin’s pretty sure he’s rolling his eyes.

It’s quiet for a moment. Then he sighs. “I’m gonna miss you,” he says. “You need to be careful.”

“Don’t be melodramatic,” Balvin says. He looks over at Maluma, who is staring at him, eyes soft and sad and sleepy.

“I’m serious. Don’t get hurt. It sucks.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” Balvin rubs Maluma’s foot, digging his knuckles into the arch a little. Maluma winces, but complains when Balvin stops. They finish the movie, and Maluma lets Balvin carry him into bed again, no protests this time.

Balvin wakes up early the next morning. He leaves Maluma snoring and takes a shower, then goes to buy breakfast at the bakery nearby, leaving a brown paper bag of pastries in Maluma’s kitchen. He scribbles a note and leaves that next to it.

_Had to catch the flight. I’ll call you when I get settled._


	3. Chapter 3

There are two people waiting for Balvin when he gets off the plane in San Juan. One has a shaved head and a comically small pair of sunglasses on. The other is—

“Nicky!”

Nicky glares at him. He sticks his hand out.

“Agent Tigre,” he says, frowning. “I’m Agent Fénix. This is Agent Bunny.”

Balvin is mostly successful in stifling his laughter. He smiles politely at Agent Bunny. Agent Bunny doesn’t smile back.

“We’re with La ABII,” he says. His voice is far deeper than Balvin was expecting, but somehow it fits him. So do the black manicured nails Balvin notices when they shake hands. “Welcome to Puerto Rico.”

“Who’s Abby?”

Nicky, or Agent Fénix, as it is, makes an unimpressed face. “Really, man?  _ La Agencia Boricua de Inteligencias Internacionales. _ ABII.”

“Oh,” says Balvin. “I’m with  _ La Agencia Talentosa de Inteligencia Nacional O Global A Nivel Grande. _ LATINOGANG.”

Agent Bunny stares at him, and then he cracks a smile. “Did you make that up just now? That’s pretty good.”

Balvin winks at him, and Nicky, ahem, Agent Fénix, shakes his head at the both of them. “Come on,” he says and points them in the direction of a blacked out sedan. “We gotta get going.”

“What’s up with this code name bullshit?” Balvin asks once they’re on the road. Agent Bunny is driving, and Balvin watches him from the passenger’s seat. Agent Bunny’s head almost hits the roof of the car.

“I think that came from your end,” Agent Bunny says, cutting his eyes at Balvin. “I guess they don’t trust us.”

“Typical Shakira,” Nic—  _ Agent Fénix _ says from the back. “Always changing up the way she does things.”

Agent Bunny looks at Balvin. “So you two have worked together before, yeh?”

“Yeah,” Balvin says, grinning. He turns around to look at Agent Nicky Fénix. “Yeah, we go way back. This fool just showed up in Medallo one day, and Shak put him to work.”

“I was reassigned there, for your information. And since when do you call it ‘Medallo’?”

“Whatever,” Balvin says, ignoring the question. “They probably got tired of you clowning around here and shipped you off somewhere so someone else could deal with you.”

“That’s not true.” Nicky starts to defend himself, but Balvin clears his throat pointedly. Nicky sighs. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how it went.”

They pull up to a hotel, and Agent Bunny informs him that they’ve got some other things to attend to while he gets settled in, but that he’ll be back later. Nicky gets out of the car to help him with his bag. He hugs Balvin and tells him to be safe. They’re not working together this time.

“They just let me come be part of the welcome committee, bro,” Nicky says. “You’re in good hands, though. The kid’s a genius. Crazy genius, maybe.” They glance at Agent Bunny, and he honks the horn. Nicky waves him off, and Agent Bunny honks again. Nicky gives Balvin another hug and then gets back in the car. They drive away.

—

Bavin checks into his room and calls Maluma from his secure line. He’s only supposed to use it for work, but he’s pretty sure Shakira knows what’s up, and he’s absolutely positive that she’d rather him misappropriate agency resources than risk being intercepted. Too bad they didn’t spring for secure Skype.

“Hey,” Balvin says. “I got here fine.”

“Good,” Maluma says. “How’s the hotel?”

“The usual.”

They chat about nothing for a while. Balvin complains about the code names they’ve been forced to use.

“At least yours is cool,” Maluma says. “Agent Bunny,  _ hijole.” _

“He doesn't seem to mind. Ni— damnit. Agent Fénix says he’s good people.”

Maluma makes a noncommittal sound. Then, “As long as he keeps you safe.”

“Yeah,” Balvin says. “I’m sure he’s competent.”

“No, I mean,” Maluma sighs. “I’m telling you. It sucks getting hurt, and not because it’s painful. It’s scary. I don’t want that to happen to you. And it would fuck up your perfect track record.” He’s being sarcastic, and Balvin can imagine the face he’s making as he says it. 

Balvin stays silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond to that.

“Hello?” Maluma says. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” Balvin tilts his head upwards, lets the wall behind him support it. He stares at the ceiling. “I know. I’ve been doing this long enough to know. But I’ll be okay. I trust  _ el conejo _ for some reason. Just a good feeling.”

Maluma says, “Okay, be careful. Don’t go making me jealous  _ con ese conejo.” _

Balvin laughs. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“You better.”

He cuts the call.


	4. Chapter 4

Agent Bunny comes back as promised. He knocks on Balvin’s door, and Balvin almost doesn’t realize it’s the same person. He’s wearing a short-sleeved peach button up covered in a pineapple pattern and a pair of matching shorts. There’s a gold chain around his neck.

“Hey,” he says. “You need to change.”

Balvin looks at his own outfit. He’s wearing a white collared shirt and a pair of shorts. His briefing materials had indicated that he should dress for heat and humidity. He was pretty happy just not having to wear a suit, but Agent Bunny tells him to wear what he wears on the weekends. Balvin grins.

They hit the road again, this time in a beat up Toyota. Agent Bunny tells him they’re going to Carolina.

“It’s not far,” he says. _“El negrito,_ I mean, my CI says Anuel’s been hanging around the past couple days at the park.”

“Mm,” Balvin says, and he props his feet up on the dash.

 _“Ey,_ nice kicks, man,” Agent Bunny says, glancing over at Balvin’s shoes. “You fuck with Pharell?”

“Yeah, man, he’s the best. Shit, I’ve listened to everything since _In My Mind._ ”

“Oh, okay, old school. I was like ten when that came out.”

“Fuck,” Balvin says, doing a double take. “How old are you?”

Agent Bunny laughs. “Old enough.”

“No, seriously,” Balvin says, exasperated. “How did you even get this job?”

“Uh,” Agent Bunny says, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “They recruited me. I used to mess around with some online stuff when I was in school.” Balvin eyes him, but Agent Bunny doesn’t give any more details than that. “So yeah, I dropped out and started working here. It’s pretty cool.”

“Uh huh,” Balvin says, smirking slightly. “Pretty cool.”

“Yeh.”

They arrive at the park, and Agent Bunny glances at Balvin. “You know how to play dominoes?”

Balvin does, and they sit at a table to play while keeping an eye on the bodega across the street. They get through one game and are halfway through a second when a loud engine sound catches their attention.

“That’s his car,” Agent Bunny says. He inclines his head ever so slightly, but it’s unnecessary. The Lamborghini stands out like a sore thumb. The doors lift up, and Anuel steps out, walking quickly into the store.

“Damn,” Balvin says, and he puts his piece on the table. Agent Bunny takes his turn immediately, one eye narrowed at Balvin’s remaining dominoes.

“Your turn.”

Balvin considers the board. Maybe he should let Agent Bunny win again. Be a polite guest, and all that.

He doesn’t get to make a choice either way because someone starts shouting inside the bodega. They hear something crash, and then Anuel storms out. He's followed by a short, seedy-looking man who Balvin is pretty sure was on the list of Gazmey’s associates, but whose name he can't remember.

He and Anuel exchange words again outside the bodega, and then he grabs his crotch, thrusting his pelvis towards Anuel as he flips him off. Anuel returns the finger before speeding off in his car.

Balvin and Agent Bunny hurry into the Toyota without saying a word.

—

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Agent Bunny says when they pull into a quiet subdivision outside of the city.

Balvin looks at him. Agent Bunny explains, “That’s his dad’s house. We knew he lived around here, and we’ve been trying to find it for like a month. And this idiot brings us to the front door.” Agent Bunny scoffs, shaking his head.

They’re parked several houses down, far away enough that they won’t be seen, but close enough to keep an eye on things. Agent Bunny pulls out a pair of binoculars.

“He’s on the phone outside. He looks pissed. Ah, _ya va pa’ dentro.”_ Agent Bunny turns to look at Balvin. “I think we’re gonna be here for a while. Last time something like this happened, he threw a little temper tantrum.”

Agent Bunny mimics Anuel throwing a fit, complete with a funny, high-pitched voice. Balvin laughs and makes himself comfortable in the car. Sure enough, music starts blaring from the house shortly after, loud enough for them to hear all the way down the street. It’s followed by a wafting cloud of aroma. The weed is loud enough for them to _smell_ all the way down the street. Balvin turns the air conditioning up higher.

 _“Mira,”_ Agent Bunny says, and indicates a taxi cab yellow Mercedes pulling up to the house. 

Karol steps out, and she looks mostly like Balvin remembers her, although she’s wearing heels and her hair is blonder now. She has on a cropped tracksuit, which isn’t very practical, but certainly looks good.

Agent Bunny whistles low. _“Qué dura.”_

Balvin takes the binoculars from Agent Bunny, who grins and winks at him.

Magnified, Karol looks even more familiar. Her pretty face is accentuated by heavy makeup. Balvin remembers being impressed by how she was always immaculately done up, no matter their circumstances. Even when things were going to shit in Argentina, Karol always looked put together.

“Lucky man,” Agent Bunny says.

“Yup,” Balvin says. “She was great to work with. Until, you know.”

“Yeh, treason and all that,” Agent Bunny says. “Still.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Uh,” Balvin says, shifting uncomfortably. He doesn’t really want to talk about Karol’s assets, considerable as they may be. He’s too caught up in the fact that he never figured out why she betrayed them.

Agent Bunny misinterprets his discomfort. He takes back the binoculars and asks, “You two never, you know…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, lets the implication speak for itself.

“No,” Balvin says, which is almost the truth. There was one incident, but that doesn’t really count. At least, not in any way that matters. Or _should_ matter. “No,” Balvin says again. And just to shut Agent Bunny up, he adds, “I have a boyfriend.”

It doesn’t shut Agent Bunny up. In fact, it backfires horribly.

“Really?” Agent Bunny’s eyes widen, enough that Balvin can see them around the edges of his tiny sunglasses. Agent Bunny seems genuinely fascinated by this, and then the questions start coming a mile a minute. Balvin would be offended at Agent Bunny’s complete lack of boundaries, but he’s so earnest in the way that he asks that Balvin answers in spite of himself. 

He’s only saved from Agent Bunny’s interrogation into his personal life by the roaring sound of an expensive Italian car. Anuel and Karol fly out of the neighborhood, just barely giving them enough time to duck down out of sight.

“Come on,” Agent Bunny says, switching back into professional mode. “Let’s go bug the house.”


	5. Chapter 5

They don’t learn much from the bug for the first few days. It’s mostly Anuel wandering around the house, playing video games, smoking weed, and calling people who don’t listen to what he has to say. The seedy-looking guy from the bodega comes by, and it seems he and Anuel have made up.

Now that he has a better view, Balvin is positive he's one of Gazmey's. He skims over the list of names to confirm, stopping when he finds the matching photograph. Austin Agustín Santos alias Arcángel.

Balvin looks at Agent Bunny. He’s texting furiously. When he finishes his message he says, “The gringos want him, so we don’t interfere too much. But we do try to keep tabs on him, the slimey motherfucker.”

“Aren’t you guys on the same team as the Americans?”

“You’d think so,” Agent Bunny says dryly.

Balvin nods and goes back to watching.

“Alca!” on screen Anuel says, and they bro hug. They don’t talk about much, and he leaves shortly after.

Only when Karol shows up do things start to happen.

First they fuck. That’s the best way to describe it. It’s a raw, savage kind of sex that makes Balvin extremely uncomfortable. He mutes the audio, and he and Agent Bunny take turns peeking awkwardly at the screen to see if it’s over yet. Finally, they get dressed, and then the real business starts.

“Look,” on screen Karol says. “We need to move faster. We’ve been sitting on this shipment for too long.”

“Yeah, but my dad wants to wait. And you know he doesn’t like the Russian.”

Agent Bunny takes notes on his tablet. Balvin turns the volume up.

“Fuck your dad. And fuck what he thinks of the Russian. I thought you were running the game.”

 _“Bebecita,”_ Anuel whines. “You know I run this shit. But I can’t go against him, you know how that would look.”

“Baby,” Karol says, voice a low purr. “It would look like you’re stepping up and taking control. You know, the apprentice becomes the master.”

“I’m not a fucking apprentice,” Anuel says, but he’s smiling, clearly liking the idea of replacing his father as top dog. Then he turns his attention back to Karol. “I’ll show you fucking apprentice.”

He grabs Karol by the waist, heaves her over his shoulder, and carries her back into the bedroom. She’s laughing the whole time, shrieking and kicking her legs. He throws her down on the bed and rips her shirt off. Literally, he tears it in half in an effort to get it off her.

“You better get me another one,” Karol says. “That was Versace.”

“Anything for you, _mi diablita._ I’ll buy you the whole store.”

And then they’re back at it.

Balvin mutes the audio again. He grabs the brief, needing something else to focus on. He flips through the list of associates again. Everyone has a Spanish name. He asks Agent Bunny who the Russian is, and Agent Bunny says that he’s not sure, but he’ll find out. He switches programs on his laptop, typing quickly. Finding what he’s looking for, he pulls out his phone again.

“Hey Rvssian,” he says. “You know anything about a real Russian here on the island?” Agent Bunny laughs at his own joke. “No, not Jamdown. Why would I ask about… never mind. Just tell me what you know.”

Rvssian has good intel, apparently, but they have to go into the ABII offices to get it, Agent Bunny explains to him. Something about not being allowed remote access when working with external partners. 

“Actually, that’s your fault,” he says.

“My fault?” Balvin asks.

“Yeh, you know, the whole Karol situation. The Big Boss really tightened things up after that. New protocols and shit. He was so shocked.”

“I mean, so was I,” Balvin says, frowning. “It’s not my fault she betrayed us.”

“Shit, that’s not what I meant,” Agent Bunny says. “I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s fine,” Balvin says, but he’s off-kilter the whole ride over to the office. It’s made even worse by the fact that he has to wait in the lobby. Agent Bunny apologizes again, saying that it’s part of their new SOPs.

Balvin sits in a chair, debating if you can really call something “new” if it’s been in effect for years. It’s been a whole two years since Karol left. They sent him to the psychologist after that, of course, but he’s never _really_ processed the damage she left behind. And now is not exactly the right time to start. Fortunately, there’s a distraction waiting for him just inside the office. He recognizes Nicky even through the frosted glass. Balvin taps on the door, and Nicky opens it, steps out into the lobby.

“Agent Tigre,” he says in total seriousness.

“Agent Fénix,” Balvin says, matching his tone.

They stare at each other until Nicky cracks a smile, and then they’re laughing and hugging. Nicky sits down with Balvin in the lobby.

“How’s it going, man?” He asks. 

“It’s going, it’s going,” Balvin says. “You were right, the kid’s good.”

“When am I ever wrong?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

They trade insults back and forth in between catching up. Balvin asks about his kids and being back in Puerto Rico, about how he likes the ABII. Then he makes the mistake of asking about Nicky’s wife. Nicky pauses for a moment before saying quietly that they got divorced last year.

“Shit,” Balvin says. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean...”

Nicky waves him off. “It’s fine. I mean, it wasn’t fun,” he says. “But we’re better off not together. Probably.” Then he flips the conversation. “So what about you?”

“What about me?” Balvin asks, obtuse on purpose.

“Come on.”

“Uh, yeah, um,” Balvin says, trying to stall. It doesn’t buy him a lot of time. He stares at the ceiling before mumbling, “You remember Juan Luis?”

Nicky does, of course he does, and he gives Balvin a lot of grief about it. But he congratulates Balvin, saying that if Balvin’s happy, he is happy for him. They’ve settled back into a familiar rhythm, and Balvin is glad to see Nicky again, see that he’s thriving despite the setbacks.

Agent Bunny pokes his head out the door, interrupting the flow of their conversation. But Balvin forgives him when he sees who he’s accompanied by.

“Agent Tigre,” the man says, and Balvin stands up immediately.

“Don Ramón,” Balvin says, shaking the hand offered to him.

“Welcome to _la isla bonita,”_ he says. “It’s a pleasure to have you here. Agent Bunny tells me you’re working well together.” He smiles, and Balvin feels almost giddy.

“Yes, sir,” Balvin says. “Agent Bunny is very talented. Thank you for having me.”

Agent Bunny grins at him behind the boss’s back. He mouths “thank you”.

He leaves Agent Bunny with Balvin, giving them another warm smile before he goes. He motions for Nicky to follow him, and they both disappear back inside the office.

“Thanks for introducing me,” Balvin says when they’re back in the hotel with the intel Agent Bunny was allowed to take offsite. “Your boss is a legend.”

“Yeah, I know,” says Agent Bunny. He smiles at Balvin. “Thanks for talking me up. I owe you one.”

“Nah, we’re partners. That’s what partners do.”

Agent Bunny fist bumps him, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that it doesn't _really_ make sense for Rvssian to be here, but I couldn't resist making a "Hey Rvssian" joke


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one mention of violence at the end of this chapter

The real Russian turns out to be Vladimir Orizolov. Balvin and Agent Bunny pour over the ABII files, but there isn’t a lot of information available. He’s suspected to be a major player in the narcotics flow from Puerto Rico to the mainland United States, but he doesn’t have any history trafficking arms. He does, however, deal in hormones. Balvin asks Agent Bunny what’s up with that, and he’s just as perplexed as Balvin is.

They’re also not sure why he’s working with a loose cannon like Anuel. Orizolov has been around the block a few times, managed to keep himself mostly off the radar. In fact, the information the ABII has collected on him is all recent. They’ve only been able to start tracking his movements since he’s gotten involved with Anuel, and even that is just sales records: a couple cars and a boat. 

Balvin and Agent Bunny monitor the video feed continuously, but nothing of interest happens. It’s pretty boring, watching Anuel’s existence. He gets high, orders take out, and leaves the containers on the counter for the maid to throw away. He makes calls and scribbles down notes. Once they saw him add up numbers on a calculator. He spends a lot of time shopping for sneakers online.

Finally, just when they think maybe Anuel has decided to heed his father’s advice and not make any sudden moves, Karol shows up again, saying she wants to go to the beach.

“So go to the beach, _mami,”_ Anuel says, leaning to look around where she’s standing in between him and the PlayStation. “You want me to buy you another bikini? You have to model it for me.” He grins at her.

“No,” Karol says pointedly. “I want to go to the _beach._ I want to go on a _boat.”_

“I don’t have a fucking boat,” Anuel says. “You want me to buy you a boat?”

“Baby.” Even through the screen, they can tell that Karol is losing her patience. “Come with me. We already know someone who has a boat. Someone who will let us use the _boat._ To go on _vacation,_ like we talked about.”

Anuel processes what she says. His eyebrows furrow, and then they can see the moment when the lightbulb turns on.

“Oh,” he says, not concentrating on his game anymore. “I thought we were going to wait for, uh, _vacation.”_

Karol sighs. “You thought that. I went ahead and booked our trip.”

“Really? Where are we going?”

Karol looks like she’s trying very hard not to yell. “Just come with me,” she says. “Bring your overnight bag.”

Agent Bunny looks at Balvin. _“Dio’ mío,”_ he says. Then, “Let’s go!”

—

Orizolov’s boat is registered under a fake name. At least, they’re pretty sure that Vladimir Putin has not made any purchases like that recently. Orizolov has it docked in San Juan, and that’s where Balvin and Agent Bunny head to.

They park their car in the public lot and creep down towards the docks. They watch Anuel and Karol watch the workers load box after box onto the boat. In broad daylight, it’s a pretty bold plan. Or an extremely stupid one.

“Should we just, you know, go arrest them?” Balvin asks Agent Bunny.

“That’s a lot of guns,” Agent Bunny says. “I kinda don’t want to get shot.”

Agent Bunny radios in their location and requests backup. The operator assures him it will be there shortly, and then there isn’t much to do except wait and watch.

Anuel occasionally barks orders at the workers, and Karol seems thoroughly disinterested in the whole affair. She spends most of her time on her phone. Once all the boxes are loaded up, the two of them disappear onto the boat. They don’t leave, though, and they stick around long enough for what seems like the entire police force to pull into the parking lot, sirens blaring.

Balvin and Agent Bunny step out from their hiding place. They present themselves to the police chief.

“Chief Martin,” Agent Bunny says, nodding his head.

The police chief nods back. “I’ll take it from here,” he says. He pulls out a megaphone and addresses the boat. “We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands up!”

There’s no reaction from the water.

“I repeat, we have you surrounded! We have a warrant for your boat. If you don’t come out, we will come get you!”

Still nothing.

“Last warning!”

The police chief signals to his captain, and a cadre of heavily armed officers start advancing towards the boat. Balvin and Agent Bunny follow behind, donning their own bulletproof vests.

The inside is full of boxes, as is to be expected. It’s also deserted, as is not. No Karol, no Anuel, no workers. The police team clears the whole boat before regrouping on the deck. Balvin feels a sinking feeling in his stomach. He turns to Agent Bunny.

“This feels like a setup.”

Agent Bunny doesn’t get the chance to respond before there’s a deafening boom, and then they’re all sent flying. Balvin crashes into the guardrail of the boat, grateful that he wasn’t sent overboard, until he sees the flames starting to spring up around them.

He staggers to his feet, scanning the deck frantically for Agent Bunny. Balvin spots him, lying on his back just a few meters away. He’s groaning, but doesn’t seem to be otherwise hurt. Balvin runs over to him.

“Come on,” he says, tapping Agent Bunny. “Come on, we have to get off the boat!”

Agent Bunny blinks his eyes open, recognizing Balvin slowly. Then he snaps back.

“Okay,” he says, and gets to his feet shakily. Together they drag as many people off the boat as they can manage, aided by the conscious members of the police force. They’ve gotten nearly everyone to safety, and Balvin is returning to the boat for the last remaining officers. He’s leaning over a body when he hears someone yell his name. His real name.

He has just enough time to turn his neck, to catch a glimpse of a heavily made-up woman in uniform, before she strikes him with her baton across the back of the head, and he blacks out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is violence in this chapter

Balvin’s head lolls violently to one side, and that wakes him up. He’s tied to a chair, and it moves in a steady swaying motion beneath him. They’re at sea.

“You’re awake,” Karol says. She’s arranged on a small sofa in front of him, observing. Balvin lifts his head slowly. 

“Karol,” he says. “What are you doing?”

“Getting rich,” she says, laughing. She examines her nails, freshly done. They’re long and sharpened to a dangerous point, with small, shiny embellishments glued on near the cuticle. Balvin looks at her looking at them.

“You like?” She asks.

“Karol, what the hell are you doing?”

“Listen when I talk. Because I just told you. I’m getting rich, and then I’m gonna fix some of the world’s problems. Look, don’t take it personally.” Karol pauses, purses her lips. “Actually, do take it personally. Fuck you, José.”

“Is this about Argentina?”

“The genius, the mastermind, the legend.” Karol rolls her eyes, then fixes them on Balvin. If looks could kill, he’d be cold in the ground already. But Karol keeps talking instead. “I can’t believe you didn’t realize I was setting you up. I mean, come on. I basically turned location services on for you.”

In hindsight, Balvin thinks, yes, he probably should have seen this coming. But that’s not really relevant to his current situation. He tries to take inventory of the room. Subtly, but Karol catches him anyway.

“We’re in the middle of the ocean. Even if you escape, no one is going to find you. No more location services.” She winks, and with that, she leaves Balvin alone.

Karol doesn’t come back. Several hours later, Anuel appears with a ham sandwich that he places on Balvins lap. Balvin’s arms are still tied behind his back.

“How do you expect me to eat that?” Balvin asks him.

Anuel shrugs. _“Problema tuyo, cabrón.”_ He leaves.

The sandwich stays there the whole night as Balvin ponders how well and truly fucked he is.

—

Anuel comes back in the morning, accompanied by Karol and Arcángel.

“Well, hello there,” Arcángel drawls at him in a lecherous voice that makes Balvin’s skin crawl.

 _“La baby_ wants some answers from you,” Anuel says, grinning maliciously. “And we’re here to make sure she gets them.”

Fuck.

Karol mostly wants to know what the agency knows, how much information they have on her and Anuel and all their other associates. Balvin gives bare bones answers that he’s sure Karol is already aware of. It mostly staves off the punches until they reach to topic of Argentina.

“What about Juli?” Karol asks. 

“Who?”

Anuel hits him across the face. Balvin winces.

“Julieta!” Karol yells.

Balvin should know better than to ask again, but he does it anyway. Arcángel punches him in the stomach, knocking the air out. He wheezes.

Karol leans in close to him. She stays there, not speaking, just listening to his short, ragged breaths. Finally she says, “Cazzu,” dragging out the syllables in a slow, venomous tone. She's so close to him. She smells exactly the same as she did two years ago.

Balvin looks her in the eye. “That crazy bitch you sold us out to?”

It’s Karol who hits him this time. She backhands him, and her nails leave four gashes across his face. Anuel and Arcángel exchange excited glances.

“Yes. That one.”

“I don’t know,” Balvin chokes out. “You stole everything after you abandoned me in Buenos Aires.”

“I abandoned you? Is that how you remember it?”

“What the fuck else would you call that, Karol?”

“I don’t know,” she says mockingly. She paces around the room. “You ignoring what I had to say for weeks, insisting that Cazzu wasn’t someone we needed to watch. Because how could a woman be in charge when there were _men_ there!”

“That’s not what happened,” Balvin starts, but Karol cuts him off.

“Or maybe you completely shutting me out _después de que lo hicimos_ because of, what, your weird hangups? Intimacy issues? What the fuck was that, José?” She spits his name like a curse word.

Anuel stops her pacing. “You two had sex?” He asks, frowning.

“Shut up,” Karol says. “It doesn’t matter. Clearly.”

Anuel turns his attention to Balvin. He cracks his knuckles like a movie villain, and then the punches come, so fast and hard and unending that Balvin loses track of how many. He starts to lose consciousness, as well.

The world’s going black, swooping and diving around him as he tries not to faint. He’s nearly given up the fight when the door flies open.

“Enough!” Nicky yells. “Only I get to beat up his stupid ass.”

Agent Bunny is right behind him, guns drawn. “Everyone on the ground, now!”

They don’t comply, of course. Anuel and Arcángel start firing right away. Nicky and Agent Bunny duck down, and in the ensuing chaos, the three run out the door and into the bowels of the ship. Nicky charges after them. Agent Bunny stays behind to untie Balvin.

 _“Dio’ mío,”_ he says. “You look like shit.”

“Good to see you, too,” Balvin manages, and then he does pass out.


	8. Chapter 8

Nicky wound up tackling Anuel, the slowest of the three. Even Karol in heels could outrun him. They found Arcángel hidden in the boiler room, wedged into an impossibly tiny space, gun out of bullets. Karol managed to get away. A helicopter came flying out of nowhere, scooped her up and made its escape. Nicky and Agent Bunny fill him in on all of these developments when they come to visit him in the hospital. 

“She’s back in Argentina,” Agent Bunny says. He has his tablet out, showing Balvin a beeping green dot on a map. “Jujuy. Probably with Cazzu.” He grimaces.

“Shit,” Balvin says. “You’re tracking her.”

“Yeah,” Agent Bunny grins. “Turns out we use the same nail salon. I got my girl to sneak a GPS chip in with those little glittery things she likes.”

Nicky elbows Balvin, and Balvin winces in pain. Nicky doesn’t seem to care. “I told you this kid was a genius!”

 _“Ey, viejón,_ I’m not a kid. You’re just jealous that I’m still _jovencito.”_ Agent Bunny sticks his tongue out at Nicky. He also announces that he’s been assigned a new partner, since Balvin is out for the count. Agent Unicornio, Nicky tells him, grinning from ear to ear.

“No way,” Balvin says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Who picks these names?”

Agent Bunny just shrugs. “I don’t know, man. But he’s a real cool dude. We’re on the same wavelength, you know? You should come meet him, whenever you get out of here.”

“Speaking of,” Nicky says. “You have some visitors.” He gestures over his shoulder.

Balvin looks up and sees Shakira holding the door open for Maluma. Maluma walks as fast as he can to Balvin’s hospital bed, using the cane that has replaced his crutches to shoo people out of his way. He buries his face in Balvin’s neck, balancing on one leg to do so.

“I told you not to get hurt, _hijo de la gran puta.”_

Shakira clears her throat. “We’ll give you two some space,” she says, and herds everyone else out into the hallway.

Maluma pulls back, stares at Balvin for a minute. Balvin knows how bad it must look. His face is a mess, swollen from all the punches and still healing slowly where Karol scratched him. He has several bruised ribs, and the doctor told him he suffered a minor concussion. All in all, though, he’s lucky. Extremely lucky.

“Fuck,” Maluma says, and then he’s kissing Balvin so gently, still balancing his weight on his good leg. Balvin had half forgotten what it felt like to be touched with affection. After the beating on the ship, the only human contact he had was with the medical staff in the hospital. They were polite, of course, and very professional, but they couldn’t offer him the kind of comfort he realized he needed.

Balvin sighs into the kiss, then breaks it off. He holds Maluma’s gaze for a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, even though it’s not his fault.

Maluma sits down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb him. “I was so worried about you. You didn’t call me, and then Shakira told me they lost track of you, and…” His voice starts to break. Seeing him cry makes Balvin start crying too, and for a while they just hold each other, tears running down their faces until Balvin inhales deeply, trying to pull himself together.

“Stop,” he says, sniffling. “Stop, it hurts to cry.” He manages a smile, which also hurts, but is much better.

Maluma dabs at Balvin’s face with a tissue, so softly that it really doesn’t do anything. Balvin tells him this, and Maluma says “Shut up,” still with tears in his eyes, but managing to laugh a little.

“I’m sorry,” Balvin says again, and Maluma closes his eyes.

“You’re going to make me start again.”

“Don’t. You’re an ugly crier.”

Maluma swats at him with the tissue. But he’s smiling big now.

There’s a knock on the door, and Shakira reappears. She eyes the two of them but doesn’t comment.

“José,” she says, using her work voice.

 _“Jefa,”_ Balvin replies.

“We’ll be sending you home once the doctor clears you for travel. Juan has volunteered to help. Even though he himself is not fully recovered.” She glances at Maluma’s cane, propped up against the bed. She continues, “You did not complete the mission.”

Balvin opens his mouth to say something, but Shakira wags a finger at him. He closes it.

“I’m just glad that you are okay. It seems that Karol has not discovered your partner’s tracking device, so this was not a total loss. We’re sending another team to Argentina to finish the job. In the meantime, take it easy. I want a full recovery before I see you back at work. That is all.”

She turns on her heel and leaves.

—

Balvin is released from the hospital the next day. He drops by the ABII offices to say his goodbyes.

Nicky squeezes him as hard as his injuries will allow, tells him to take care of himself. He fixes an eye on Maluma, telling him to watch out. Maluma meets his gaze evenly, gives him a two finger salute. Then Nicky smiles, grinning big and pulls him in for a hug.

Agent Bunny brings Agent Unicornio by for introductions. He looks even younger than Agent Bunny. They have similar taste in sunglasses. Balvin shakes his hand. Then Agent Bunny hugs Balvin, says that he’ll miss working together. Balvin tells him to come to Colombia sometime, and Agent Bunny grins.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m gonna do that, you know. Don’t be surprised if I just show up one day.”

Balvin smiles at him, says that it’s no problem. There’s another round of hugging, and then he and Maluma leave, catching a cab to the airport. They’re quiet almost the whole way home, content to just be next to each other.

—

Balvin spends the next couple weeks bored out of his mind in Maluma’s apartment. Maluma won’t let him lift a finger, even though he’s mostly healed, and Maluma is still using the cane. Balvin’s pretty sure he just likes the way it looks, though.

Shakira has revoked his entrance key, too. He knows because he tried to go in to work one day, and he was nearly escorted off the premises by security.

The one thing he _can_ do is have sex. Maluma seems to think his “debt” has accrued interest, and they spend most of their time fucking like rabbits. Maluma’s leg is always just fine when they’re in bed, Balvin notices.

He eventually gets official medical clearance to return to desk work, and he’s never been so happy to come in and write incident reports. The enthusiasm wears off pretty quickly, though, and by lunchtime, he’s complaining that he should have milked his injuries a little longer.

“You’re so weird,” Maluma says, reminding him of all the complaining he did just yesterday. They’re sitting across from each other in their regular booth, on schedule. Sebastián’s been sent out on assignment, and the twinterns are not so bold without their fearless leader.

“Maybe,” Balvin says. “But you still love me.”

He looks at Maluma, who’s smiling down at his plate. He glances up to meet Balvin’s eye. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“I love you, too.”

Maluma lights up, smile as big as the sky, and all Balvin wants to do is lean over the table and kiss his stupid grin. But they’re at work, and that would be unprofessional.

Actually. 

Balvin glances around, and Shakira is nowhere to be seen, so he does it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is a story set in Puerto Rico, with a lot of Puerto Rican characters, I encourage you to educate yourself on the current situation and help out in any way you can. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed as much as I enjoyed writing.


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